He teetered so enthusiastically that he sat down unexpectedly and with
much emphasis. That put him between two impulses, and while they battled
he stared round-eyed at Bud. But he decided not to cry, and straightway
turned himself into a growly bear and went down the line on all fours
toward Cash, growling "Ooooooo!" as fearsomely as his baby throat was
capable of growling.
But Cash would not be scared. He refused absolutely to jump up and back
off in wild-eyed terror, crying out "Ooh! Here comes a bear!" the way
Marie had always done--the way every one had always done, when Lovin
Child got down and came at them growling. Cash sat rigid with his face
to the fire, and would not look.
Lovin Child crawled all around him and growled his terriblest. For some
unexplainable reason it did not work. Cash sat stiff as though he had
turned to some insensate metal. From where he sat watching--curious to
see what Cash would do--Bud saw him flinch and stiffen as a man does
under pain. And because Bud had a sore spot in his own heart, Bud felt a
quick stab of understanding and sympathy. Cash Markham's past could not
have been a blank; more likely it held too much of sorrow for the salve
of speech to lighten its hurt. There might have been a child....
"Aw, come back here!" Bud commanded Lovin Child gruffly.
But Lovin Child was too busy. He had discovered in his circling of Cash,
the fanny buckles on Cash's high overshoes. He was investigating them as
he had investigated the line, with fingers and with pink tongue, like
a puppy. From the lowest buckle he went on to the top one, where Cash's
khaki trousers were tucked inside with a deep fold on top. Lovin Child's
small forefinger went sliding up in the mysterious recesses of the fold
until they reached the flat surface of the knee. He looked up farther,
studying Cash's set face, sitting back on his little heels while he did
so. Cash tried to keep on staring into the fire, but in spite of himself
his eyes lowered to meet the upward look.
"Pik-k?" chirped Lovin Child, spreading his fingers over one eye and
twinkling up at Cash with the other.
Cash flinched again, wavered, swallowed twice, and got up so abruptly
that Lovin Child sat down again with a plunk. Cash muttered something in
his throat and rushed out into the wind and the slow-falling tiny white
flakes that presaged the storm.
Until the door slammed shut Lovin Child looked after him, scowling, his
eyes a blaze of resentment. He brought his palms together with a vicious
slap, leaned over, and bumped his forehead deliberately and painfully
upon the flat rock hearth, and set up a howl that could have been heard
for three city blocks.